


Tea & Sympathy

by gimmefire



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silverstone hates Cal, but Matt knows that will change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea & Sympathy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a poor-Cal-someone-cheer-him-up [prompt](http://motorskink.livejournal.com/3479.html?thread=1235351#t1235351).

Silverstone is as hectic as ever for everyone British, riders and teams and media alike. Though it tugs painfully on Matt's heart to watch Cal's post-race interview on the monitor during their show - and, more to the point, his unconcealed dejection - he doesn't get five minutes to himself until hours after the race and he figures that by then Cal is best left alone. What he doesn't expect is a text from Cal when he's just about to head off home.

In contrast to yesterday or even just several hours ago, when he was full of pre-race tension and grit and that honey badger determination, the Cal that welcomes him into his motorhome looks as battered and bruised and worn out as you'd expect someone who's had three big crashes in two days to look. Matt makes a point of not staring at his bandaged, swollen arm as he lifts his mug of tea to his lips.

They lean up against the kitchen counter and make small talk because it's better than talking about how the weekend went. There are only so many times Cal can joke about his Saturday Silverstone curse, and his smile rarely reaches his eyes when he does. But when the small talk peters out, all they're left with is a heavy silence.

"Always want to do well at home, don't you?," Cal murmurs eventually, eyes unfocussed, his gaze settled for no particular reason on the mug in Matt's hands.

Matt offers a sympathetic half-smile, but Cal doesn't see it. So he speaks, quietly but firmly. "Yeah, but you'll have next year. And the year after that, and the year after that. It'll happen. You know it and I know it, it'll happen." His heart skips a beat as it usually does when Cal looks up at him, that blue as intense and penetrating as ever, but he doesn't falter. His voice softens, affection clear in his every word. "And hopefully I'll be lucky enough to be here watching when it does."

This time, Cal's weary but heartwarmingly grateful grin does reach his eyes. "You might still be in the dole queue then..."

Matt chuckles and rubs the back of his head ruefully, feeling a twinge in his chest at the very real possibility of not being here, in amongst all this, next year and beyond. He puts his mug down on the countertop and sets about resolutely ignoring that twinge by moving in close, easing Cal's mug aside so he can meet his mouth. Cal's hand comes up to cup the back of his neck, fingertips squeezing lightly, and he lets himself fall easily into the rhythm of Matt's tender kiss.

One day, Matt thinks as his hips press into Cal's and he swallows his soft moan, he will find Cal in the Silverstone paddock and the moment they'll share like this will not be one of commiseration or comfort, because he'll be sticky with champagne, all starry eyes and elated grin.

It _will_ happen.


End file.
